GO!
by Jeckle
Summary: The Continued Legends of Heiphong Outlaws
1. Default Chapter

GO!   
An Outlaw Star/Heiphong System Fanfiction  
Author: Jeckle  
  
"I'm living up to my potential now for the first time. I know what I want to do now. And I know that no one can stop me. Too bad everyone else doesn't seem to know it too. It would make my life easier..." - Porter Lefou  
Episode One: Upgraded Destiny  
Daintly gripping the spectacles in her black claws, Stride awkwardly snapped open her case of sanitary napkins. Carefully, she removed a small hand towel, and began examining it... first the front, then the back. White. That perfect shade of white that confirmed it had never touched air, nor seen light before. She checked the front once more, before dabbing at her face. They were a neccesity in her business as a freelance mechanic (or at least they were on a station full of terrans with unkept dirty fingernails).   
  
Satisfied she'd cleaned herself sufficiently, Stride looked up at the automatic door to the communication chamber, glaring suspiciously at it. She fumbled for her gloves, not wanting to set down her spectacles, because she wasn't terribly sure how clean the table by the comm room was. True, only she was supposed to use the comm room, but who was to say someone hadn't gone on and used it regardless of orders? Or worse... rats. They were everywhere else, why not the communications room?  
  
She lifted her glasses to her lips, when suddenly her hand froze. No... she wasn't terribly sure how clean the glasses themselves were in the first place. She couldn't put those in her MOUTH! This was a dilemma. What if there was some dread terran engineered super virus that had come in contact with her spectacles?   
  
Finally formulating a plan, she hurled the spectacles into the air. Stride quickly struggled to pull on her gloves. They were leather, and quite expensive, not being synthetic. But synthetics made her break out in a rash, so this expenditure was all too neccessary. Pulling one on, she tried to guide her claws through the tiny slits at the tips of the fingers, not wanting to mar the expensive clothing.   
  
Clenching her fist once triumphantly as she succeeded in pulling on the glove without incident, Stride quickly followed with the second. But the leather material maliciously latched onto her skin, thwarting her efforts.   
  
"No!", Stride mewed pitiably, yanking frantically at the garment, her hands still wet from the sanitary towelette. With a final gentle (For a ctarlctarl) pull, the second glove was tugged snuggly against her flesh. Gasping, she leapt up, pouncing on her glasses as they descended, tackling the bifocals in midair. She embraced them like an old friend, as she fell back to the ground, landing in a battle ready crouch.  
  
Shaking out her braids, Stride looked to her left and right. No... no one was watching. She was sure. But she looked both ways a second time. Just in case. Folding her arms, she began glaring at the door again.   
  
Looking to the left and right down the corridor a third time, she quickly slipped the spectacles on. Nimbly she stooped down to look at the keypad, typing out the passcode quickly, yanking the spectacles off as soon as she was finished, hiding them behind her back as she looked both ways yet again to confirm no one had seen her wearing them.  
  
Stride tapped the switch with her claw impatiently, until the door slid open with a maliciously slow squeal of gears. While she constantly reminded herself the inanimate were just that... inanimate, as a mechanic and engineer it was sometimes hard to believe that the machines, the tools, the ships themselves didn't eye her... waiting for her to turn her back so they could snap a belt, or over heat, blowing a valve. Despite the fact a delicate touch was often required for her work, sometimes you just had to show technology who was boss, and give it a good kick. Especially terran technology. Filthy earthlings.  
  
The CtarlCtarl wrang out her gloved hands on a fresh sanitary towelette, continuing to rub at the viscous black oil she'd already cleaned from her claws an hour before, as the door shut behind her. It was a tiny cubicle, the size of a confessional.   
  
She wasn't catholic... nor human for that matter, thus she didn't make the comparison. It had been a long job, and frankly she hadn't enjoy even a single minute of it. Sure she'd been given almost limitless purchasing power, an excessive timetable, and she'd been given a chance to get a black market permit, thus legally obtain a plethora of nifty tools, "controlled alloys", grappler enhancements, and more... But she just plain didn't like her employer. MacDougal Corporation was a step above a Pirate Guild in her estimation. A very small step at that.  
  
As usual, the video screen autodialed, the ringer sounding off a full five times before the other end picked up. "Well, what is it?" All that was available from the picture was a tall black chair, turned around to hide the face of the speaker. Stride sneered at the human, again reassuring herself, that it was only due to the fact she was being richly rewarded that she trafficed with one of the sub creatures. Especially Harry MacDougal.   
  
"It's done. The cockpit is still missing, but you said that you'd take care of that, MacDougal."  
  
"I did." The voice agreed softly. Silence stretched out, and if there was one thing Stride Prelprel couldn't take, it was useless silences. Frankly, she'd spent more time on this conversation then she'd wanted to, her attention having begun to drift. She had a bottle of Kei brand scotch to visit, as well as a wager to collect on the way. Stride had had quite enough of this cloak and dagger nonsense, "Well, you have Stride's account number, MacDougal. I want the rest of my money by tommorrow."   
  
"Yes, I have it... and Stride. I've decided to add a bonus as well for your diligence, PrelPrel."  
  
"Nyo?" Stride's ears perked up at that. It was a suprise. A big suprise, coming from MacDougal. He had a reputation as being a skinflint, on top of being as crooked as a Silgrian's spine. Maybe she'd take back some of the things she'd said about humans. Maybe. Oh, not the comments about them being dirty mongrels that aught to be put to sleep as soon as they saw sunlight. Those stood, because they were true after all. But maybe they weren't all capitalistic, spineless, egocentric, penny pinchers. Maybe they were just MOSTLY that way.  
  
"Yes... I'm going to arrange a little rest for you. Enjoy it, Stride." Stride sniffed, her senses detecting a sudden change in pressure. The automatic steel door began trembled slightly, rattling in its frame. Stride's eyes swiveled from the door back to the screen, her teeth clenching as a growl began deep in her throat. It rose in crescendo, a beastial lion's roar echoing in the cabin.  
  
The airlock had been opened...   
  
The door began to buckle outward slowly with a soft metallic whine. "Thank you, PrelPrel. Rest in peace." The CtarlCtarl's blue eyes remained focused on MacDougal (or rather the back of his chair), as the steel door gave way, the air screaming out of the vid-cabin, pulling her with it.   
  
Harry switched off the video link, and turned back to his guest. She continued tapping her foot on the floor impatiently, waiting for him to recognize her. She gave the impression of being a woman who didn't much like to wait on anything, and it was a fairly accurate impression. But then, Harry gave the impression of not really caring if she was inconvenienced. And oddly enough this was ALSO a fairly accurate impression, "Thank you for waiting, Lord Hitorega."   
  
Bowing her head, which was obscured by a baggy canvas mask with a ragged shark's tooth smile, she waited for him to speak. "I will need the Kei Pirates assistance. You can deliver the... baggage, Lord Hitorega?"  
  
"For the right price..." Stepping into the light, Hitorega's cream colored bodysuit matched her pale complextion. She lifted her gauntlet, allowing the three wickedly sculpted blades to slide forward, "We will be glad to, Mr. MacDougal." Her voice was gravely, as if she were snarling each word. Or had chronic lung damage. It was a disturbing voice, regardless of which. It was devoid of emotion or any "give" as it were. Hitorega gave the impression (Again an accurate one) that she didn't have much of a sense of humor.  
  
Sliding a slim briefcase across the desk, Harry nodded softly, "This is the sample." Hitorega's blades sheathed themselves as she reached forward to snap open the case. Chill mist rose from it as the frozen container began to steam in the muggy room. Hitorega ran her slim gloved fingertips across the frosted glass, wiping away a layer of ice, allowing her to glimpse at its contents. A delicate woman's hand floated in the green fluid, well preserved by the look of it. Hitorega repacked the item slowly, before bowing her head again, "And we have yet to discuss payment."  
  
"I've already offered you a substantial sum."  
  
"I don't want money MacDougal... I want the leyline." Hitorega clicked her teeth together, the sound eeriely like that of an insect's mating call, "That's what you're going after isn't it?"   
  
"What if I am?"  
  
"Then I want in... and you need what I can provide. It's been almost four decades since... well, obviously the first Witch of the Leyline can't help you from where she is, in Hell. What is it you want? You've got more wongs then even the guild."   
  
Harry's lenses whirred audibly as his synthetic eyes refocused themselves, "I want someone to sing for me again."  
  
"Heh... if that's all, I'll sing for you at the gates to the Leyline, as long as I have what I want."  
  
MacDougal snorted at the pirate lord, turning his chair away from the woman, "We'll discuss the payment later."  
  
"If you like, but we will discuss it soon... I'll only need a few hours." Hitorega slung the suitcase over her shoulder before leaving MacDougal alone. Everything was falling into place again. Now... if only he could find the XGP. That bastard, Gene Starwind had taken care to hide it thirty years before. Before Harry had finally killed the gun slinger. He had been the last to die. After... after Melfina. Harry knew exactly what he was doing now however. With the leyline, he could bring them all back. Himself. His Brother. ... even Melfina. And he would make her love him this time around. It all depended on finding the XGP.  
  
But he knew it was only a matter of finding the right man for the job. They'd locate the XGP, and he'd have the ship for himself. The Outlaw Star.   
  
  
+++  
Sparks lit as Stride clutched at the flooring, her claws digging great gouges in the reinforced steel hull as she was dragged from the comm room. Her tight braids whipped about in a frenzy, irritating her further as she caught the ring for the tool hatch. Feet kicking in the air, she snarled as the life support continued to blast oxygen into the cabin, creating a powerful wind tunnel.   
  
Pulling herself forward inch by inch, she grinned a feral little smile as she made ground. *SNAP* The tool hatch's lock shattered under the pressure, causing the door to swing open, and hit her in the head. Cursing, she swung her feet forward, settling her boots against the floor. With a quick tug, the door snapped off it's hinges. Hurling it as the wind took her off her feet again, Stride hissed as she was dragged to the small porthole. The thick tool hatch door slammed against the leak, and suddenly the vaccum ceased, causing her to land with a heavy thud.  
  
Stride lay where she fell, glaring up at the ceiling as if somehow it were responsible. Stride took stock of the situation calmly. She hurt all over. She was laying... on the FLOOR. The floor on which thousands of Terrans had marched to and fro across for almost a century. And there was a pain in her back that could ONLY be a pair of broken spectacles poking through her overalls. And to top it off... somehow she didn't think she was going to get paid the rest of her fee.   
  
Yes... someone simply HAD to die. Or at least get put in a body cast...  
  
+++  
Porter rolled over in bed, in the state halfway between sleep and wakefulness...   
  
His alarm clock was going off, buzzing loudly in his ear. Even in his groggy state, so keen was his mind that he could tell... something was off. It took a moment, as he hid his head under the pillow, before he cleverly deduced what was amiss. He was fairly certain he didn't HAVE an alarm clock. Yet it continued to buzz, despite the fact he had pointedly ignored its squawking presence. After some time he let out a soft sigh, finally relenting. Porter peeked out from under the bedsheets, looking about for the offending device.   
  
It took him a few moments to get his thoughts together, after all, the effort of waking up for Porter was alot like trying to start a gas engine after a freeze. He had to try a few times to get his brain to turn over and start running. As his mind sputtered to life, he remembered that he did indeed... NOT have an alarm clock.   
  
So it must be the door... the door buzzer was ringing. Parve' could get it... unless she was still asleep. Or meditating. Or she was thinking "Porter can get it."  
  
Porter decided the third option was the most likely, and so put himself to the task of dragging himself to his feet. True... the door was ringing. But his morning ritual couldn't be rushed, and so he took his time at the mirror shaving while the door buzzer continued to sound. Tying his hair back, he allowed himself the neccessary luxury of selecting his suit. Choosing the black and green bodysuit, he zipped it up, and reached for his belt. Laden with his batons, it hung loosely atop his hips as he slid on his yellow longcoat.  
  
Examining himself once more, he quietly confirmed that he was ready for the outside world. He was aggitated. He always was when he was woken up unnaturally, and today was no exception. As far as he was concerned the world outside should adhere STRICTLY to his convenience.  
  
Leisurely in his descent down the steps, he stepped over the trip wire he'd installed last week gingerly before reaching the doorway. Porter opened the door, and was greeted by a short round little man in a crisp blue uniform. He looked like a corbonite, but for the fact he wasn't wearing an environmental suit. The squat gentleman seemed irritated himself, having been kept waiting outside for so long.   
  
Porter tilted his head to the side curiously at the rotund little man, then shut the door without a word. He began making his way back upstairs when the buzzer rang again. Letting out a deep breath, he turned about and opened the door again. The man was still at the doorway, now looking somewhat confused. He peered at Porter before taking a breath to speak.   
  
Porter spoke up first, asking, "Do you wear glasses?"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Do you wear glasses? You're squinting."  
  
"Uhmmm, no sir. I'm her..."  
  
"No sir? No you weren't squinting? Yes you were. You still are."  
  
"No, I meant I don't wear glasses."  
  
"Ah." Porter nodded once, then let another lengthy silence pass before he closed the door again. He made it halfway upstairs before the buzzer sounded again, a long drawn out ring, as if someone were leaning on the button. Porter turned around again, opening the door. No longer looking curious, the gentleman looked flustered in his itchy uniform, "Sir, I'm here to..."  
  
"Can you read Kanji?"  
  
"Yes, I... I can. I'm here in regards to..."  
  
"I'm confused."   
  
"Pardon sir?" Taking off his cap, the man wiped the sweat from his balding head, the synthetic sun having upped the tempature. He was confused himself, but then he had a civic duty to be civil, "Why is it you're confused sir? I ha..."  
  
"If you don't wear glasses and you can read kanji why are you knocking on my door?" Porter pointed down at the man's shoes. Looking down, he noticed a small brass plaque bolted atop the welcome mat proclaiming boldy, "No Solicitation.".  
  
Understanding finally, he laughed, shaking his head at Porter, "I... I'm not a salesman. I'm delivering a package for a Miss Parve' Merisant."  
  
"Oh..." Porter nodded as if pondering the matter. He looked down at the small package, and smiled at the mailman, "I see. Well carry on then." He waved, then closed the door. This time the man wasted no time with the buzzer, knocking on the door. Perhaps that wasn't the right word... Banging on the door. Yes, he began banging away at it with gusto. Porter opened the door once more, remaining utterly expressionless as he waited for the mailman to speak.  
  
"I'm here with a..."  
  
"A package?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh... well the mailbox is over there."  
  
The messenger shoved his foot in the door this time as Porter tried to close it, "Wait! I need someone to sign for it!"  
  
Porter mumbled, scribbling down "Porter Lefou", and accepting the package. It was a small oddly shaped little bundle, and he hefted it, impressed by the weight of it. The mail carrier took the clipboard back rudely, "Have a nice day sir."  
  
Porter closed the door a final time, before examining the package in more detail on his way up the steps. Shaking it, he listened for a rattle. Hearing none he was disappointed. He was quite certain it couldn't be anything worthwhile without any moving parts. Down the hall he strode, finally arriving at Parve's door. Without knocking he opened the door, shivering as the cold air inside came rushing out.  
  
Parve' always kept it below forty degrees in her own room, and Porter hated the cold more then anything. Seated in her chair as usual, she continued playing with her cards. She was "a unique find" to use one of her own favorite terms. Her blue hair was well tended and short, framing her pale face perfectly. One of three known to exist, she was a half breed. Her mother was human, but her father was a Silgrian. Porter tried not to think about it, mostly because of the ghastly mental images his subconcious conjured when he thought about the night of her conception.  
  
Parve' looked human enough, with the exception of her skin which was so pale as to almost be blue. Having peeked at her once in a state of undress, Porter knew she also had fine blue feathers in various areas on her body. Or perhaps they were scales. He hadn't gotten a good look before she'd thrown an ashtray at his head. Aside from that, her eyes rotated in ways they... shouldn't, often looking in different directions when she wasn't paying attention.   
  
Unaware of his presence, she thumbed through her deck, her black nails clicking as she shuffled. Porter didn't understand, nor trust the Tao. It was unnatural. Magic. Frankly, as far as he was concerned everything it could do, could be done without it. Besides which, he didn't understand what an antiques dealer would need the skill for. Admittedly Parve' used divination often with a capitalists zeal, taking advantage of her abilities to earn a quick buck... but it seemed like using an elephant gun on a fly to Porter. And he told her so frequently.  
  
Porter poked her in the abdomen, "It's time for breakfast... it's your turn to cook." Her glazed eyes remained unfixed until Porter's fourth attempt to rouse her. Parve' blinked as if she'd been woken up from a dream, and pushed her deck aside, "Oh, good morning Porter!" It was the silgrian in her talking. An interesting biological fact, Silgrians secrete a saline solution when they "are attracted to" or "very much like" another person. This compound is infact almost identical to human sweat... thus the Silgrian seem unusually friendly to humans, because humans smell unusually friendly to them.   
  
Porter didn't really care in the end, but it was something to know. Especially since it explained why Parve' was so much more friendly on muggy days when the tempature was up, "A man came by to see you."  
  
"Hrmmm?" Parve' sat up in her chair, curious and suspicious at the same time. Her human half knew better then to talk to Porter, but sometimes it was unavoidable, "Who was it?"  
  
"... I can't keep track of all of your gentlemen callers. Maybe if you got them some name tags."  
  
"Gentlemen callers? What gentlemen callers, Porter? ... nevermind. What did he look like?"  
  
"Fat... short... he was dressed like a mailman... I didn't know you went for that."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Costumes. A little roleplaying... at this time of the morning."  
  
Parve' tossed a card to Porter as she got up from her chair sighing, "Did I get a package?" Porter flipped the card over, the Prince of Clubs, and murmured, "Hrmmmm? No. You played cards while the doorbell rang. I got the package. It's your turn to make breakfast."  
  
Snatching the package from him, Parve' pushed past him towards the door, "I hope you didn't have plans for tonight, Porter. I'm going to need you for a new aquisition." She shredded the canvas wrapping quickly, eager to view her prize. Porter tried to look over her shoulder, curious as to what had arrived. She snatched it from view to set it on the table, as if she had lost interest as soon as she found out what it was, "Yes, I'll definately be needing you. I've gotten a new pr..."  
  
"Exciting, thrilling, fascinating. Now, breakfast." Porter frowned as she picked up her vid-phone, and slid out the door gracefully. The contents of the package glittered on the table where she had dropped it. It looked like a key... an old style spaceship key. Porter called after her before following, "What is it I'm guarding you from? Pirates? Aliens? Rabid dogs? You do know you're paranoid for an art dealer."  
  
"Well, we recently made a killing. I'm buying the XGP prototype."  
  
Porter made a face as he followed her down the stairs, hands folded behind his head, "An XGP? ... so you're running a vintage starship business on the side?"  
  
"The XGP. The Outlaw Star."  
  
"Yeah, the one that came in fourth in the Space Race three years running, right? The crew never once made it "in the money". I don't think anyone would waste good wong on it."  
  
"I would, and I did." Parve' reminded him as she stopped at the foot of the stairs to peer over her shoulder, her albino eyes tracking his progress down the stairway, "While I'm impressed you know your history, at least pertaining to the Space Race, the XGP has made a few other marks on the past."  
  
"It sounds like a waste of money if you ask me."  
  
"That's what everyone tells me about you, but one of these days I'm sure you'll actually be useful in spite of yourself."   
  
"You always were an optimist." He frowned as Parve' stopped in front of his case. It was a sturdy plain oak trophy case, filled with his various awards. While he claimed not to care a bit about them, and he believed this to be the case... for some unimaginable reason he was protective of them. One might even go so far as to claim he was proud, but that wasn't the proper word for it. He'd won them without effort, winning again and again against the best. And it bored him. "I did mention I'd be glad to pay your way to this year's fencing tourney, didn't I, Porter?"  
  
Porter shrugged as if the idea didn't interest him in the slightest, and quickly changed the subject, "Why do you need me to guard a seventy year old ship? How is someone going to steal it? Get out in the vaccuum of space and push?"  
  
Parve' ignored him for a moment, before explaining with a sigh, "I... I feel like something is going to happen."   
  
Porter snapped on the stovetop hoping the reminder would serve to encourage her to start cooking. "A woman's intuition? Or is it that time of the month? They have pills for that now." Parve' made a point of ignoring him again, knowing how lightly he took Tao magic. She had other things to worry about now as well...  
  
She'd heard of the Outlaw who sold the ship to her. Dragon's Vein M. She was the old breed of outlaw, known for excessive violence and recklessness. Usually it was all smoke screen for something else, for example, destroying a pirate heavy class ship to draw the attention of the Space Force away from her target. Parve' didn't know where someone like M would have found the XGP, and more over, she was concerned that perhaps M was pulling a fast one somehow. It was an odd coincidence though that MacDougal Corporation had begun making black market inquiries into the XGP as well. Parve' didn't care really.  
  
Parve' had made certain that there was no leak on her end. No one would know about the arrival of the XGP, until the day before the auction. Hopefully M would be as discrete.   
  
+++  
The docking clamps locked into place with a heavy metal "clunk", securing the freighter and its cargo box. Her fingers flying across the keyboard, M finalized transfering the funds for docking fees. "Thank you for choosing Lou Storage... have a nice day." The computer chimed merrily back at her. M flipped the keypad up, stretching as she hopped out of the chair. She hadn't been to Blue Heaven in almost a year. While M had gained her reputation for salvage expeditions bordering on piracy, she had stopped trading some time ago.   
  
It wasn't the risk, so much as the small return in profit. Think big if you want to make it big. That was the Outlaw's motto. Living hand to mouth just wasn't any way to live. That and... she didn't like Blue Heaven. Too many memories. But when word had reached her that MacDougal Corporation was looking for the XGP... well. M wasn't above grabbing for a big payoff like that, even if it did mean she'd have to deal with the damned trading guilds.   
  
Stepping off the landing plank, she sniffed, suprised at the rancid stench that seemed to cling to the docks. It was a completely artificial environment, and somehow it was still only a matter of time before it became infested with filth. People really were dirty organisms...  
  
Heavy footsteps echoed from behind, metal shod boots on metal. Tiv's monotone voice interrupted her brooding, "I don't understand why you can't deal directly with MacDougal Corporation, Ms. M. Wouldn't they have been able to save you the trip here?" Tiv was a service robot, an ATVU model (All Terrain Valiant Unit). He was one of the new breed of artificial intelligence. The kind that had been mistakenly programmed to think their opinion mattered. His bulky frame filled the doorway behind her, the red juggernaut standing at seven feet high and six wide.   
  
"MacDougal isn't someone I want to deal with directly for personal reasons. You can't trust artifice. Even a personality dub like Harry MacDougal." M waited for the conveyor to activate, rather then walking down the boarding passage.  
  
"Can't trust artifice. Well, that certainly hurt my feelings... But a contract's a contract, yes? Do you think MacDougal would steal the XGP? It's not logical. He has more then enough to buy it."  
  
"Why pay any more then you have to? I'm discussing selling it with a small firm so it could be shipped without listing. Even if MacDougal wouldn't try to steal it, who's to say that there aren't other buyers interested? It's better for all parties involved that I transport it discreetly. And MacDougal Corp. couldn't possibly slip a prize like this in undetected with Space Forces breathing down their neck lately." The conveyer belt began to move, dragging them down the dimly lit corridor slowly, muted yellow neon lights giving M a headache. Supposedly they helped adjust the eyes for those who had been in the darkness of space for longer durations. M didn't believe it. They were expensive and required excessive amounts of upkeep. But then if it kept the Blue Heaven maintenance crew working, it at least helped the economy.   
  
Tiv was quiet, knowing better then to argue, knowing further that M obviously hadn't told him what factors were involved in her plan. Thus, he had to trust her judgement in the matter, that this WAS the best course of action.  
  
"This is the easiest way to smuggle it into Blue Heaven." M added as the doors opened with a woosh. The neon signs of the commercial district provided ample light for the cramped streets, but out of nostalgia the artificial sky was run every 12 hours, giving Blue Heaven a day to accompany it's "night".   
  
"Welcome to Blue Heaven, M." M nodded at her welcoming party. The girl had the complextion of a corpse, pale white with a hint of blue. Dressed with an unusual flare, her ensemble was somewhere between a business woman's with frilled tie and waistcoat, and a space bumpkin, wearing bagging cargo pants with slim black boots, "I'm Parve' Merisant. Arrangements have been made to keep the cargo secure. This is my Box Guard, Porter Lefou." Her companion on the other hand was little more then a boy, seventeen years old at most. Pristeen, he seemed rather anal to M, all of his clothes obviously professionally cleaned and pressed. He held himself with a stand offish attitude of supreme arrogance, or at least... that was what it seemed to M.  
  
"... that's some Box Guard. Is he old enough to drink yet?"  
  
"I'm Tiv, ATVU, Freight Model." Tiv added quickly, hoping to avoid an incident. The Box Guard didn't seem to be amused, but kept quiet. Parve' answered for him with a slight smile and a laugh, "Yes he can. In fact, we were hoping to discuss the transition of the cargo at a little place down the street if you'd let us treat you." Though it was only a block to the place Parve' had in mind, she hoped they could make it before Porter opened his mouth.   
  
On pins and needles the entire trip, she only allowed herself to relax when the drinks had been served. For a frieght model, Tiv seemed to be an excellent conversationlist, which was good, because his owner certainly wasn't. "Well, if you'd like to set a minimum bid, it's my intention to push this auction foward. I'm expecting it to go for a high price, nostalgia aside, I understand that MacDougal corporation is interested in it."  
  
"Mmmm..." M commented, looking over her shoulder again. It was apparently a habit she'd cultivated. She did it every minute or so, despite having chosen a secluded booth in the far corner. It was making Porter nervous. Obviously he was overlooking something, but to him this seemed like a whole lot of nonsense. She just had to give them a minimum bid, so they could unload the damned thing. What was the problem?   
  
"I don't like trusting the cargo to a boy, you understand?"  
  
"... this is Porter Lefou." Parve' said again, a look of genuine suprise on her face at M's question. Porter had been blessedly quiet up to this point, and Parve' knew it couldn't last. M waved a hand dismissively, "I've never heard of him. I don't keep track of Blue Heaven muscle. Is he more then a name?"  
  
"I was wrong about you, M." Porter interrupted, causing Parve' to hiss his name at him, signalling the boy to shut up. M paused to watch the boy's face, which was dull and expressionless as it had been the entire time, "Wrong about me? How's that?"  
  
He didn't seem to hear, watching the race on the vid screen across from the table. He took a long sip from his glass, seemingly more intent on the show then the conversation. But after a sufficiently long pause of his own, he explained, "Your arms are twitching..."  
  
"My arms?"  
  
"Yes. I had thought you were a real bitch. I was mistaken."  
  
M laughed at the statement, "Well thank you, but what has that got to do with my arms?"  
  
"They're nano-prometheus prosthetics, aren't they? You aren't even a REAL bitch. No one with any real money would use rickety jobs like those, and you can't be much of an outlaw to have lost both arms."  
  
Parve' covered her face, praying Porter wasn't about to get in a fight with a client... again. M snorted, her face suddenly lighting up as she began laughing again, "He has good eyes on him."  
  
"Porter Lefou is one of the best Box Guards on Blue Heaven, Miss M." M looked back at Tiv, who nodded as if to confirm the statement. He took it as his mission to make certain to research their ports of call thoroughly, and he had indeed stumbled over the name, "Porter Lefou. Three times consecutive champion of Hephong Universal Fencing Tournament, declined to attend the last two years. Home planet, unknown. Date of birth, unknown. Diagnosed with minor obsessive compulsive disorder and poor social interaction skills."  
  
"Poor social interaction skills? What would you know about social interaction, you tin plated mook?"  
  
"My social template is upgraded by Miss M annually."  
  
""Miss M"? What would SHE know about social interaction? When was the last time she had a date?"  
  
"Unknown, unit has only been in operation for seven years and the event predates my activation." Tiv replied before M hissed at him to shut up, reaching across the table to snatch at Porter. Rocking back in his chair, Porter mused to himself, keeping just out of her grasp, "Yeah... she seemed like the old maid type. Wild, overbearing, and reckless. Couldn't love any man. But then it's not like any man could love her."   
  
*CRACK* M's mug ricocheted off of Porter's head, sending his chair crashing to the ground. Stunned, he stayed on the floor, rubbing his head. Parve' reached into her coat, keeping an eye on M. True, she was a client, but Parve' couldn't let her kill Porter. He was her only Box Guard after all. Parve' stopped the motion however as she sniffed, smelling the subtle salty scent of tears. M smiled softly, bowing her head to hide her eyes, "I'm sorry, but I'm tired from my trip. I believe we can discuss minimum bidding tommorrow."  
  
Parve' tilted her head to the side, the motion bird-like as her eyes rotated wildly in their sockets for a moment. Porter seemed to have actually hurt her feelings. It was strange for an outlaw to be so... sensative, "Well... we're going to go set up the security system, you have our number, so please don't hesitate to call with any concerns. I've booked a room for you during your stay." Parve' closed her folio, leaving a handful of wong on the table, "Thank you very much for your faith in Merisant Auction House."  
  
+++  
"She was a piece of work wasn't she? She paid for the docking fees herself, right?" Porter had begun pouting as they began the journey back to the docks, rubbing his head sullenly. She was fast. Damned fast. Someone had illegally amped her implants obviously. That explained the twitch alright. M was geared way beyond safe (let alone LEGAL) velocity levels.  
  
"Stop complaining, Porter. It's only for a few days. You probably won't have to deal with her again." Parve' sighed, not able to admit she agreed entirely. The woman just exuded tension, making conversation and business dealings uncomfortable. Porter was... well, Porter was Porter. He had a knack for rubbing people the wrong way. But M... Dealing with M was like feeding a wolf by hand. One had to watch out for their fingers, "You probably won't have to deal with her." Parve' repeated as she came back to herself.   
  
"Are we going to have to deal with them?" He asked, derailing her train of thought. A trio of red suited... things clung to the shadows in back of them. Leaping from shadow to shadow, they were swift and light on their feet. The "men" were never visible for more then a moment at a time, and were too lanky to be human. Steel masks affixed with a sharks tooth grin hid their faces from view, but their eyes bulged from the face plates, with a wide-eyed souless glare. Parve' already knew what they were, if they had elluded her senses. Pirate guild. Parve' sniffed, catching a whiff of ozone, and looked to Porter who had switched on his batons. "Wait, Porter... What are pirate guild doing here?"  
  
"Enjoying the local cuisine, taking in the sights I expect." Porter guessed as the gaunt trio rushed from the shadows, aware they had been detected. Claws slid into place from their gauntlets, as they surrounded the two, "Leave, Box Guard... all we want is the key."   
  
In response, Porter drew his off-hand baton, the lightest of the set, extending it, the motion like that of a telescope. It locked itself to its full length of three feet with a series of "clicks". Porter gave it a twirl, expressionless as the red clad taoists circled him. "Well... don't you all look cute? But I don't have any candy, and halloween isn't for another few months. So beat it, kids."   
  
Parve' drew a deck of Tao wards, fanning them out in her slim fingers as the gangly ninja's pounced. It wasn't neccessary, Lefou's baton tip crackled with energy as the generator at the handle began to hum.   
  
With a single arcing stroke, he slashed up, parring the outstretched claw of the first attacker, the massive shock upon contact with the shock-baton sending him flying away from the Box Guard. On the downstroke, Porter twirled the baton into an underhanded grip, stepping forward, his legs following through with the motion of the first swing. His left boot left the ground as he spun around, turning his back on the pirate guilders for a moment. His leg circled about in a roundhouse kick, snapping the masked grunts face to the right with a wet pop that would require extensive chiropractic therapy to undo.   
  
Porter allowed him to slump to the floor, as he brought the pommel of his baton forward into the gut of the final pirate. He doubled over, as Porter twisted his wrist, bringing the baton blade to rest on his steel mask for a moment. Then the generators hummed again, sending another jolt of electricity into the target. The whole matter settled in a few seconds, Porter snorted as he sheathed his baton, and looked to Parve'.  
  
The only concious member of the party raised a twitching claw at Porter, hissing in his discordant voice, "You're dead, box guard."  
  
"Coming from a guy in a trick or treat outfit, you sure talk big." Porter scoffed at the Kei Pirate, giving him a solid kick to the jaw, hoping to silence him, "You'd need a damn sight more then just three of you." Parve' cleared her throat nodding to the left alley. Porter turned to scowl at the rows of sharks grin masks that lined the alleyway. Some thirty pirate guilders stood watching quietly, "... of course."  
  
"Porter? You have a plan?" Parve whispered as she leaned close to confer with him, tao cards readied.  
  
"I do... run."  
  
Parve' almost protested, but Porter had already taken to his feet, running for the docks. Parve' let out a yelp as a claw swished past her face. Flailing, she fell back on the asphalt and rolled on her clean clothes, trying to get some distance, claws plunging into the concrete behind her as the ninjas continued to snatch at her. Hopping to her feet, she began running, chanting under her breath as she chased after Porter, "Pagguasunpha pagguasunpha pagguasunpha..."   
  
Like insects, the army skittered along the street, dragging their claws along the asphalt, sparks flying as they clawed their way after their prey. Porter had reached the automatic door for the XGP's dock and begun typing in the code.  
  
The half silgrian rotated on one foot, gracefully turning in a 360, a fistful of wards flying from her hand, "PAGGUASUNPHA!" The strips of paper shot from her grip like daggers, striking through the concrete or flesh in its path before detonating in a series of blue kei fire explosions. Porter held the door open, allowing her to slip in first before lifting his hand. His light shield activated on full power for a moment, emitting a blinding flash, causing the remaining pirates to shield their eyes as the door shut.  
  
"What's pirate guild doing here? They don't work well with MacDougal Corp." Porter asked, stretching as the conveyor belt led them down the corridor. Parve' ignored him for a moment, her eyes closed as she concentrated, "Porter, those were foot soldiers... they don't travel alone, usually they're accompanied by a taoist or general. Be alert..."  
  
"Alert? No one's gotten in without the passcode, Parve'." He shook his head as they stepped off the gangplank to look up at the freight box. Parve' tugged on his coat, shaking her head, "These aren't common thieves, Porter. Don't be so cocky."   
  
Porter lifted his hand with a sigh, his wrist link activating, "Freighter 15 mainframe. Respond. Clearance code, 42324. Report."   
  
The computer system chimed back simply, "Intruder detected inside freight container 1523." Porter shook his head, giving the freight box a kick, "It can't be right. No one can get in. Even one of those creepy ninjas." Drawing his small baton again, it extended, electrical current causing it to vibrate slightly as he opened the door to the freight box itself, "Stay behind me..."   
  
The area was enclosed, the XGP taking up a small portion of the cabin. Four levels of steps lined the walls, allowing for easy access and maintenance of the cargo. Porter began to ascend slowly, the sound of machinery making it difficult for him to pick any sound out. Then he saw it... something skittered across the railing. Something hairy. Watching the tail trail behind it, he snorted, "... I think it's a cat, Parve'." Porter sheathed his baton, turning back to give her a thumbs up.  
  
"Watch out!" Parve' shouted back at him. Porter turned about quickly at the sound of a lion's roar, the fierce snarl echoing loudly in the cabin. One thing was apparent as he caught a closer glimpse of the intruder... it wasn't a cat.  
TO BE CONTINUED... (Click-click) 


	2. Mexican Standoff

Blue Heaven has grown substantially since its humble beginnings as a waystation for those passing through the Sentinel system. It's vast docks were open for nuetral trade, which while it allowed for free traffic between Pirate Guilds, Space Forces, Trade Federations, and Conglomerates, it maintained a substantial crime rate. The vogue (and intelligent) thing for most traders to do in order to protect their investments was to staff a "Box Guard". While it wasn't a new idea for black marketeers to retain the services of security personel, Blue Heaven continued to hold stiff penalties for firearms use.

Small end traders were forbidden to staff large numbers of guards, taking into account the cut-throat tendancies of certain black market groups. Hence most were allowed a single Box Guard, to avoid incidents of gang warfare. Talented hand to hand and melee fighters were coveted, and thusly, the trading house's fate was tied inextricably with that of it's Box Guard.

Episode Two: Mexican Standoff

Parve' was rattled.

That was the best way to put it really. She had expected a modicum of trouble dealing with the XGP, but nothing on par with the Pirate Guild. Porter's assurances didn't help to calm her. He didn't have the vaguest idea what the taoists were capable of. "... it's just a cat."

Parve' shook her head, hearing something over the sounds of machinery. Something much bigger then a cat. "Watch out!" She shouted as something barrelled out of the shadows, it's bellowing roar echoing in the confines of the freight box.

Porter saw the blur of motion, and instinct took over, his reflex action being to draw his heavier baton. The five foot rod extended rapidly as he brought it forth to block. It clashed with the sound of metal on metal, parrying the lunging form from the shadows. "Claws?" Porter thought as he had a moment to recognize what his weapon had collided with.

"I'm gonna to punt your thick terran head through the hull!" Porter also had enough time to recognize his opponent wasn't human, as she twisted about, bringing her foot about in a savage roundhouse kick. He did not however, have enough time to block a second time.

The CtarlCtarl's foot connected solidly with his shoulder, sending Porter skidding across the hangar bay. Tightening his grip on the shock-batons, he tried to get up, only to have the CtarlCtarl pounce on him, her boots stomping down heavily on his shoulders. Crouching down atop him as if she'd downed a fleeing deer for her lunch, the CtarlCtarl sniffed at him, her pale blonde dreadlocks hanging down, almost obscuring her ears, "... you're not MacDougal."

Porter coughed in response, trying to remember the trick of breathing, after having the wind knocked from him. After a few failed attempts, air came into his lungs with mingled burning pain and relief. "No... cough Porter. I'm not a welcome mat either, you damned bim."

"Nyah!" She meowed, obviously confused by this turn of events. Porter knew how she felt. He wasn't sure what the hell was going on either. Examining him closely again, she leaned forward until his features came into focus.

No... he didn't look like MacDougal at all. MacDougal wasn't that young, she was pretty sure of that. The CtarlCtarl seemed to get her head on straight again, and snarled in his face, "Where's MacDougal? Stride tracked the communication line to this freighter!"

"Pagguasunpha pagguasunpha pagguasunpha..."

"Nyo?" Stride turned to look over her shoulder at Parve', having forgotten the silgrian, who had become illuminated in a faint nimbus as she chanted. The smell of ozone filled the dock as electricity swirled about between her cupped hands, flowing like water through her fingers. The catgirl let out another roar before leaping up from Porter's prone form to scutter about on the steel struts lining the ceiling.

Parve' clenched her fist, cancelling the spell as she knelt at Porter's side, "Porter? Are you okay?"

"Was that what I think it was?" Porter mumbled as he sat up slowly. While they'd once been a proud warlike race, the Ctarl-Ctarl had begun recently to consolidate their vast holdings, "leaving the lesser undesirable worlds" alone. Meaning most remained on Ctarl-Ctarl and surrounding systems, their military and space forces having become more interested in defense, then in exploration and conquering within the last fifty years.

"That... was a Ctarl-Ctarl, yes..." Parve' agreed, standing up slowly. The beast girl clung to the metal grating of the floor above, looking down at them through the bars. What was a Ctarl-Ctarl doing on Blue Heaven? They didn't trade with anyone anymore. Parve' took a deep breath, trying to decide just how to approach the situation. They had to move the ship immediately, and the army of ninjas really were a minor problem compared to an angry Ctarl-Ctarl. Diplomacy seemed like the best course of action. "Your name's Stride, yes?"

"I thought Ctarl-Ctarl's were taller." Porter muttered under his breath, sparking a fit of snarling from the young ctarl girl.

"Stride isn't short! Stride isn't short! I'm two centimeters over the minimum regulation height!" She rattled the grating above like a gorilla, baring her teeth at the human, "Stride PrelPrel is of the PrelPrel family, you stupid terran! Thirty-three generations of military service to the proud and noble CtarlCtarl empire!!"

"... you must be generation thirty-four, right?"

"Quiet!" Parve' insisted as she listened. Stride's ears twitched as well, her eyes tracking a "clickity-clack" noise as it crawled across the life support ventilation ducts. Her attention diverted, the Ctarl swung from the rafters, following the noise to its source. Pouncing on the main exhaust vent, she clutched at the grate, peering inside suspiciously. It had taken her five hours of careful hacking, tracing the line from MacDougal's com signal...

Now that she thought about it, it was odd how the line had been spliced, but she'd assumed he had been trying to fool her with a dummy signal to throw her off the scent. He was calling from a traveling freighter, while trying to make hackers think he was still at MacDougal Corp on Heiphong. It made perfect sense... unless of course some stupid terran had been eavesdropping. Which would mean MacDougal WAS on Heiphong, and that Stride had been hiding in a germ-ridden freighter without air-conditioning for half a day for nothing...

Her musings were interrupted as she felt something crawling along her fingers. A slim black creature with a pair of antennae waving merrily at the CtarlCtarl as she leaned closer to bring it into focus. In a word... a roach. Stride flicked it off her hand, screaming wildly, "GAH! TERRAN FILTHY!"

Porter blinked, speechless for once as the roach bounced onto the hull, crawling towards him. Looking up at the catgirl, he shook his head, stomping down hard on the insect, "... the proud and noble CtarlCtarl, huh?" Stride hissed back at him, pouting, "Stupid human... those filthys have more germy-germs crawling on them then even a HUMAN!! I... nyo?"

The grating had begun shaking in her grip, reminding her of the prey that was lurking inside, "Come on out! I'm going to..." She trailed off as another cockroach crawled onto her hand. It was followed immediately by another, which was in turn followed by a legion of them. Unable to move, Stride began to hyperventilate, her mind refusing to accept the fact she had an army of earthling roaches crawling on her, their tiny little legs, SO MANY LEGS, tickling along the exposed flesh of her arm, spreading bacteria across her clean fur.

"NYAAAAAAAAH!" Releasing her grip, Stride fell from the ceiling, swatting at herself until she hit the floor with a loud thump.

"I thought they always landed on their feet?" Porter murmured to Parve' while the distressed girl ran about until she was certain she'd flung all of the creatures off of herself. Quick on the draw, Stride removed a sanitary napkin from her case, and began cleaning herself frantically. Parve' hadn't budged during the affair, her eyes constant and focused on the grate as it shook, pouring out a swarm of vermin. Shattering under the weight of its burden, a flood of insects poured from the shredded ventilation grate. The mass of writhing bugs landed in a pile, forming a vile little hill in front of the entrance to the freight box. Unfortunately, being the only entrance, it also happened to be the only exit...

The swarm rippled, as a pale hand reached out from within. Rising slowly from the depths of the insects was a graceful beauty in unsullied white robes. As she rose completely out of the swarm, she bowed her head, the cowl of her cloak hiding her face as she introduced herself, "My name is Calvert, the white brood."

Parve' crossed her hands in front of herself, preparing to shield Porter and herself. The White Brood... she'd heard of her. One of the Five Blades of Hitorega. Freaks and prodigies even amongst the already unnatural ranks of the Kei Pirates. "I mean you no harm. I'm here to negotiate."

"I'm Porter Lefou, a box guard. We don't negotiate, so cut the queen of the insects fashion victim schtick and get out of my box."

Calvert smiled thinly at Porter, whose batons remained drawn and charged. Calvert rested her hand against her forehead as if stricken, "... a negotiations break down. Well... If we can't negotiate, then I suppose I'll leave." Parve' closed her eyes, chanting softly as the insects began to chitter. Calvert shook her head after a moment, "No... I suppose I can't very well leave empty handed." Lifting her hand, a flickering red light began imminating from Calvert's palm. The vermin began to spread about her, moving in ranks, like a vast army, its battalions stretching forth into position. They slowly began to take their positions, forming a large tao circle.

Stride didn't know what was going on... she hadn't had anything to eat in almost twelve hours, and had been stuck in a poorly ventilated room that hadn't been cleaned since the Ctarl Empire had annulled it's trading treaties. She needed a bath, a drink, and a television. What she didn't need right now was some lunatic terran throwing bugs at her. Howling, she dug deep within her psyche, stirring up the beast within, giving it free reign.

Stride knew there was no moon on Blue Heaven, limiting her strength... but she wasn't going to let ANYONE get away with infecting her fur like that with filth. Crouching down, she vaulted over Porter and the silgrian, her claws extending as she pounced. Her nails found purchase on Calvert's outstretched arm, digging deep into the flesh leaving four deep gouges that almost severed the appendage.

The spell died on Calvert's lips as she screamed, a brown oily substance pouring from the wound as her forearm bent in a way it simply shouldn't, hanging by a ragged thread of flesh. Stride bared her teeth, circling back to maul the woman again, trying to ignore the crunching sensation of insects beneath her boots. Calvert turned about with frightening speed, as the remains of her arm distended. A serrated blade of chitin slid wetly from the remains of her arm, like nothing so much as the claw of a praying mantis. Backhanding the Ctarl with the rounded end of the weapon, Calvert's insects continued to march forward, writing out the complex sigils with their own bodies. Stride grunted as the wind was knocked out her, her body skidding past Porter.

"Hold her off Porter!" Parve' shouted, trying to come up with a plan... ANYTHING! Calvert wasn't human, and was apparently much better versed in the tao then she was. Porter looked over at the weakly twitching Ctarl-Ctarl, then back at his batons, before speaking up, "How? I don't have any pest spray."

There wasn't any way he could touch her, he was right. Which left only one option... "I'll keep her busy, Porter. Get the damned ship running!"

"The ship? It's seventy years old!"

"Porter! NOW!" Parve' shouted, drawing a tao card from her vest and beginning to chant. Porter muttered a few choice words under his breath, before jumping up on the wing of the XGP. Porter struggled with the hatch when he finally reached it, "The computer system is down, Parve'! The electrical door won't open!"

The Silgrian didn't respond, the ward in her hand glowing brightly. Calvert had recovered already from Stride's attack, her eyes closed as she chanted her own spell. The mystical power of the taoists clashed, stirring up a powerful wind in the freight box. "Shit! OPEN!" Porter slammed his fist against the door to no avail.

"Get out of Stride's way!" The ctarl-ctarl startled Porter as she hauled herself up the wing to avoid the progress of the vermin across the hull. Swinging her own petite little fist against the sealed red door, Stride let out a short little laugh as it buckled inward off the hinges. With that, she hopped into the comparative safety of the ship.

Parve' let out a sharp cry as the shielding ward ignited in her hand, the spell card quickly reduced to ash. Porter looked back at the darkened entrance to the ship, and shook his head. If the computer wasn't able to open the door, then there was no way he could get the engine running. Which meant they were sunk... Unless they could get lucky and over power the roach queen.

The spell circle began to complete itself, the chirping of the insects carrying the tune of a chant. Parve' pulled another card from her vest, closing her eyes as she concentrated on shielding herself. She didn't know what Calvert was trying to cast, and frankly she wasn't curious enough to want to be on the receiving end of it.

Porter leapt off of the wing, raising his large baton over his head as he took to the air. If the ctarl could get through the bug lady's defenses, then he was damned sure he could. With a shout, he swung downwards, the baton making a solid cracking noise as Calvert defended herself with her mantis claw. Her human hand shot out with frightening strength, clutching at his throat. Porter gagged as he was shaken about, dropping his baton as his fingers went numb. He fumbled inside his coat, as spots danced in front of his eyes.

One of Parve's metcampf spells was somewhere in his pocket, he knew. Finally finding it he brought his fist out of the confines of his coat, landing an open palmed blow on Calvert's forehead.

She didn't even grunt at the attack, continuing to strangle the box guard. Porter smiled at her weakly as he struggled. Calvert sneered back in response, "Desperate fool." And then she began to feel the heat... a burning heat at her forehead. It was tao magic, that much she knew, but... how? Glaring at the boy, she didn't sense a whiff of the tao on him.

Throwing Porter away, she reached up to her forehead, yanking off an adhesive strip of paper. Recognizing it for a tao ward, her eyes widened for a moment, before it detonated in her face. Parve' let out a deep sigh of relief, before staggering to the front of the box to Porter's crumpled form, "Porter? Are you alright?"

"If I say no, do I get to go home?"

"... no. There's still an army of pirates waiting outside."

"Oh right..."

Pulling him to his feet, Parve's breath caught as the box was filled with a neon red light again. The spell circle was alive again. Which meant so was Calvert. The pirate's headless corpse got up slowly, stretching out, tearing loose of her robes and flesh with equal zest. Rearing on her back four legs, she let out a frighteningly alien squeal as she stood up to her full height. "Actually an army of pirates sounds alot better then a ten foot cockroach right now... Where's a rolled up newspaper when you need one?"

"Negotiations have ended... may your souls find the dankest of the thousand hells..." The creature bellowed as it rocked forward, landing on all of it's feet. An explosion echoed in the cabin as safety plates along the Outlaw Star detonated their locks. Calvert looked up in time to see a grappler arm as it was discharged from the ship's hull. With a wet splat and clunk the arm landed on the ground, crushing the taoist.

"What the hell?"

Parve' pointed up to the XGP as its flood lights flickered on and off, "Stride..." The sound of metal against metal started up on the other side of the entrance, the army of red tao creatures somehow sensing Calvert's failure. Porter felt like he'd gone twenty rounds with a gang of MacDougal box guards. He was sure that the Ctarl had bruised his collarbone when she'd pounced on him, and his trachea didn't feel like it was in tip top shape. "You going to just stand there, while a Ctarl-Ctarl is inside an auction piece?"

Parve's eyes widened at the thought, shoving Porter out of the way. She'd had it insured, but despite that, somethings money couldn't replace!

"Shut up!"

"I must inform you that..."

"Stride said shut up, stupid terran computer, and start the engines!"

"I'm afraid I can not comply with requests that are not made by members of the crew. And you are not registered."

"Nyah..." Stride was already up to her waist in wires and metal plates, from her attempts to hotwire the machine. It was designed in such an unusual fashion, that she wasn't having much luck, however. The primary control panel, or rather what she THOUGHT was the primary control panel had been hooked up to the grappler system. The navigation system was nowhere to be found, which was confusing, because obviously it HAD to have one! It was a ship! How could a ship NOT have a navigational system?

Yanking at a few wires indescriminately, she frowned at the tangle wondering who designed this wreck? "Ah! I... I would have to ask you not do that."

"Shut up! If Stride finds your box, she's going to reformat you. Technology has to do what it's told!" She adjusted her glasses petulantly. It was irritating to be told "no" by a terran, but by a terran computer? She had her pride as a Ctarl-Ctarl! She wasn't going to let something like that go by unanswered. But who ever designed the cockpit seemed to have been certifiable. The galactic standard for data and power systems wiring was a four cord system, while this ship had seven.

It was as if the navigation system wasn't part of the mainframe, while the piloting was on a dual accessable line with automatic pivot. Which would mean two people were required to properly pilot the ship, one of them handling navigation manually without aid of computer systems, while the other would work the grappler system and short range flight capabilities... which wasn't possible, "Start the engine, stupid computer!"

The computer sighed for the fourth time, explaining for the eighth time, "I can not comply, you are not a registered cr..."

"The crew's been dead for along forty years, so you're going to have to get over it, pal." Porter announced as he was dragged into the cockpit by Parve' "We have to get moving, they're going to break through the door, damn it!"

"Nyo? Who's they?"

"I can not comply, even if the previous crew is deceased, unless you are the new owners of this vessel."

Ignoring the Ctarl-Ctarl, Porter hopped into the pilot's chair, "We are! Now move it!"

"Will attempt to engage unsen engines now, however without Melfina, we will not be able to navigate for long distance travel. And I am not able to bring the engines online without the key."

Pulling herself up to peek over the edge of the pilot's chair, Stride mewed curiously up at the computer,"Nyo? What's a Melfina?"

"No one asked you anything. Sit down, monster-chick... are you wearing glasses?"

"Nyah? No. Why would Stride need glasses?" Stride replied, yanking the spectacles off her face, pocketing them quickly.

Digging into his coat, Porter fumbled for the key, shoving it in the slot with more force then was strictly needed, "Alright then. Move it!" He gritted his teeth as he turned the key, the unsen engines firing to life as he flooded them.

"But we can not navigate, save by sight without Melfina."

"Stop bitching, and move, computer!" Porter shouted, forcefully shoving the main thrust lever into it's highest setting. With a shuddering explosion, the ship shot forward, dragging a grappler arm limply behind, smashing through the airlock gate. The ship spiralled about as it exited the dock, careening along the line of meteor buoy's outside the airlock. Tearing the dangling grappler arm from it's mooring, the computer letting out a pained groan.

Wedging itself between two guide meteors, the red vessel fired off all four engines to full power, popping out the other side of the guide route with fairly minor damage to the hull. Porter let out a sigh of relief as the vastness of space stretched out up ahead... until the red alert lights sprang to life with a loud alarm claxon, "... what's that? Is something wrong?"

"Stupid earthling, do red lights start flashing when things go right?" Stride snarled as she tried to untangle herself from the mess of wires that she'd reduced the console to.

"Three vessels from Blue Heaven have altered course to intercept the XGP!" The computer chimed as the ship began to shudder ominously.

Parve hopped into the communications console, seeking to open a channel to the oncoming ships, "It could be space-dock assistance, coming to help tow us out."

"Their weapons are charging." Gilliam advised before she had to time to complete the action. Porter shook his head at the announcement, "Okay... fairly safe to say it's not dock-side assistance. Move it, computer!"

"This is our maximum speed via conventional engines. I must remind the new crew that this vessel is over seventy years old." Gilliam protested as the crew buckled into their seats frantically.

"Then ether jump!"

"We can not ether jump without Melfina for navigation!"

"... hey, shorty! Can you hotwire the ether drive?"

"Stride isn't short! Stride's gonna pull your kidneys out of your..."

"If we don't jump, we're dead, got it?"

"Nyo..." The Ctarl seemed to ponder the matter for a moment, before shoving her fist into the control panel, breaking through the two inch sheet metal like tissue paper. With a crunch, she yanked out a small bundle of wires and vaccuum tubes, giving them a swift yank out of the helm.

"Oh! Error! Error! Ether Drive Engaged..."

"If I die, I'm going to come back as a ghost and haunt that M bitch!" Porter screamed as the blue energy swirled about the vessel, as it dove into the ether without a navigation system.

TO BE CONTINUED... (Click-click)


End file.
